


Picking Flowers

by essequamvideri24



Category: The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6827875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essequamvideri24/pseuds/essequamvideri24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Anne and Isabel Neville share a leisurely afternoon in the garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Flowers

Crouched in the gardens along side her sister, Anne furtively plucked myriad colored spring blossoms and she pushed her strawberry blond locks away from her face. The increasing heat and laconic atmosphere at Middleham betrayed the fact that summer was well and truly on its way.

From her position in the hedges, Anne could see the boys training in the yard below. Her father’s wards, young boys with noble blood, took their lessons together from a team of tutors the Earl had built.

Supposing that since the Earl had no sons of his own, noble fathers were quick to assume that he would have plenty of resources for their own boys. And while it was true, her father had been fastidious about his daughters’ education as well. 

“Oh!” Isabel gasped, pressing her fingers to her lips, and Anne followed her sister’s sightlines to find she had been watching the boys slashing at one another with wooden swords. One of the boys was staggering backward holding his sword arm, a grimace painted on his face.

“Why are women not allowed to bear arms, Isabel?” Anne moved to tuck her feet under her backside and pluck petals from her flower as she watched the boys.

Isabel settled in next her sister, leaning against her shoulder to also watch, “Women are the fairer sex. We are to be gentle… healers, mothers. You know that.”

Anne considered this, “But some men are gentle too, physicians, musicians, scholars, dressmakers… are they not?”

“Not all men are warriors.”

She watched as the king’s two younger brothers squared off against one another, their heads covered with thick leather helmets. “Is not the old queen Margaret a warrior?”

Isabel was silent a long moment, flower petals falling from her long elegant fingers. “She leads men into war. I do not know if that makes her a warrior.”

“And Jean d’Arc?” Anne added.

“I suppose she was a warrior.” Isabel stilled. “Why are you so interested anyhow? Do you fancy yourself a warrior, sis?”

Anne smiled tenderly and giggled, “No, but I should like to be as strong as one some day.”

“What man would want a strong woman?” Isabel laughed, pinching her little sister.

“Only a warrior would want me. And I would expect nothing less.” She pinched her sister back, teasingly.


End file.
